


Only a Number

by vanillafluffy



Series: JB in the Tower [11]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Birthday, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Maria Hill has a sense of humor, No Spoilers, Vacation, america's ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 09:09:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18735982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillafluffy/pseuds/vanillafluffy
Summary: Steve and Bucky are both over 100--and have interesting taste in swimwear..





	Only a Number

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sherlockian_syn](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sherlockian_syn).



> As far as the MCU goes, I tend to ignore pretty much everything after CAtWS. So there are no spoilers for anything recent and it's definitely not canon compliant. Enjoy!

The vacation cabin on the isolated lake in the Poconos used to be a SHIELD safe house. Since SHIELD is out of business now, Maria Hill has claimed the place as a pied-a-terre of sorts. On the Friday of Memorial Day weekend, she’s arrived with guests, namely James Barnes, Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. The cabin shows no sign of occupancy since her last visit. They settle in happily.

Saturday noon sees them relaxing. Sam has called dibs on the hammock under the pines and is lounging there with a paperback thriller from the cabin’s shelves and a glass of iced tea. 

Maria has staked out the one patch of dock that gets shade. She’s stretched out on a blanket, wearing a floppy hat and sunglasses, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the soft breeze sweeping over her bikini-clad body. James reclines beside her on the blanket, not complaining that she’s usurped the best spot. He’s wearing a modest pair of trunks, unlike Steve, who’s apparently pandering to Sam’s taste--that bright blue Speedo he has on is…informative.

Steve sits with a sketchpad across his knees, presumably rendering the scenery. Her phone is on its charger in the cabin, but at some point this weekend, she muses, she _has_ to get a candid picture of him--Captain America in a banana hammock would totally break the internet.

There’s desultory conversation about summer plans, the annual bash Tony throws for the Fourth of July, the next big holiday weekend…and also Steve’s birthday. According to the calendar, he’s 101. Steve maintains that being in the ice “stopped the clock” for 66 years and he’s really more like 35. 

“Hey, at least you’ve got math that adds up,” James sighs. “HYDRA had me in and out of cryo so much I can’t even begin to guess. A year or two here, a few weeks there, a couple months doing whatever. Seven or eight years? Maybe? I have no freaking clue how old I am other than 102, total.”

“You’re only as old as you feel,” Steve contributes, pausing with his pencil in midair.

“Move over, Methusalah,” James says wryly.

“Who are you calling Methusalah?” Maria asks in mock-indignation. She pokes him playfully in the ribs. He retaliates in kind. A scuffle breaks out, which threatens to turn into a PDA of uncomfortable proportions, especially since his plaid trunks--allegedly the Barnes tartan--are on the verge of sliding off.

“Look at your hair,” Steve says loudly.

The combatants pause. “What about my hair?” James demands, hiking up his waistband. He’s been maintaining the shorter style he’d gotten last year; Maria much prefers it to the shaggy locks he’d had when he first arrived at the Tower. 

“Well, it hasn’t started going grey yet, unless you’re using some kind of cover-up I don’t know about,” Steve points out. “And remember, I knew your dad. He had the same dark hair you do. He was what, in his mid-thirties when I met you? And he was already getting silver around the temples.”

“Hmm…that’s true. By the time I was in high school, his hair was more grey than not. But the serum--”

“I can tell you,” Maria interrupts, because James glumly dwelling on his lost years is no way to enjoy a long weekend, “he doesn’t have a single white hair _anywhere_.” 

“Thanks, Hill,” James mutters. There’s a first! That’s a blush, not too much sun--the rest of him is as pale as ever.

Technically, they’re both centenarians, but in their cases, it really is a technicality. “Don’t worry about it, guys,” she advises, smiling. “Age is only a number.”

 

…


End file.
